Being a Circulatory System
by Withering.Under.Disapproval
Summary: NERVOUS, James? My hands are sweating like my pores have been magically enlarged to the size of Sirius's inflated head. Jumping out of the Astronomy tower suddenly seems like a good idea. I'm turning suicidal. NERVOUS is an UNDERSTATEMENT.
1. I am a Circulatory System

**Hey, People. Now the Name's probably 'Being a Circulatory System' because I was 1) Studying Bio, and 2) Had nothing better to name it. **

**But read on. R&R! **

**Chapter 1**

**I Am a Circulatory System**

I am a circulatory system.

Sounds philosophical, doesn't it?

It's not supposed to.

I'm just so bored, waiting for my friends to finally discover me in my compartment. Daddy's book on _The Human Circulatory System (and Diseases Affecting It)_ is spread out on my lap.

I can't remember _why _it's spread out on my lap.

That happens to me sometimes. I forget when I did something, and why I did it. Usually, it's when I'm concentrating on something far more… interesting.

I suppose my breakfast this morning was a whole lot more _interesting_ than grabbing this book. Mum had come up with this fascinating gluey thing that was supposedly porridge. She proudly said she'd put _everything _she could find into it.

Come to think of it, I did taste broomstick bristles and our house-elf Shanta's toe-nail in it…

My stomach does a queasy turn just as the door to my compartment bursts open. About time, too.

"Bloody stupid _trunk._" The person huffs, trying to drag the trunk in.

To my amusement, it's only James, under the impression that his beloved Lily Evans has arrived.

Because he thinks Lily's arrived, he abandons his efforts and straightens up, spiking his hair and trying to look unconcerned about his disobedient trunk.

"She cometh not, James." I sigh.

"What does that mean?"

James is so completely oblivious to the Muggle world. He isn't even entirely sure what a Muggle fireplace _looks_ like (this is a fact- he said so last year), so expecting him to have read Marianna by Tennyson is expecting too much.

I'm not too involved with the Muggle world myself. As far as blood goes, I'm what some Slytherins may affectionately call a Pureblood. However, since I socialize quite freely with other human beings, they may also add I'm a blood traitor.

But you can't ignore good writing- and the Muggle world has quite a lot of that.

"Lily's been staying over at Mary's in Scotland. So the McDonalds are driving them over."

James rolls his eyes.

"Oh." He sighs and sits down opposite me, stretching his legs out comfortably, "How were your hols, huh, Neil?"

"Lovely." I reply truthfully.

And the holidays _were _quite eventful, this year.

Did I not nearly drown in my bathtub because my brother's friend sent him a water-serpent for his birthday? My brother named the vicious creature Bubbles, (har har har), and he was pretty reluctant to let it go in the lake.

"And yours?"

"Padfoot came over quite unexpectedly." James said, "He should be here in a minute."

He then launches into an animated description of the Quidditch they played, how they wrote the _perfect _game-plan to win the House Cup. He also told me they'd flown over to Lily's place.

"And did you go in?" I ask, wincing a little as I imagined Petunia's reaction to them. Lily's sister is just a bundle of love, you know. She's so sweet she refuses to eat at the same table with me and Mary because we're 'just more of those freaks'.

He smiled sheepishly, "No, I was too scared."

"Good reason to be, too." Another voice said and Remus joined our little club, "She'd probably hex you all the way to the Antarctic and back."

"Nah, she'd probably just leave him with the seals." I say, "And the Northern Lights."

"What lights? Where's this Ant-Attic anyway?"

Remus sighs, "Give him an atlas sometime, will you, Neil?"

"Sure, I'll find one." I reply.

I'm fine with the Marauders (though I'm closest to Remus). I think it's because I'm not head-over-heels in love with any of them. Now this may have been untrue in our third year, when I did have a tiny crush on Sirius Black. It may even have been untrue now-

If I hadn't met Dean Winchester.

The mere thoughtof him makes little hearts blur my vision, while more pop out of my ears and nostrils.

It shouldn't have been too difficult for my friends to guess I was completely smitten by our Quidditch captain. But then, I barely spoke to him when the others were around, so they never noticed how I went pink and couldn't string together two witty sentences anymore in his presence.

And it's a little hard to tell when I go pink because of my half-Indian blood. When Lily goes pink, you can her red face from on top of the astronomy tower.

My mother's from a pureblooded Indian family- the Chowdhurys. Well, _her _mother was British, so she's only half-Indian, which gives me only half of the half-Indian blood. And that always confuses me, so anyway-

Mum came over to England to practice medicine when she was twenty- and there she met my dad.

My mother's name is Rakshata, but my brother and I try to never say her name aloud in front of her because we can't pronounce it right. And the fact that her own children can't say her _name _right infuriates her. So when people ask us what our mom's name is when she's around, we pretend not to hear them. Being considered deaf is hardly as bad as a one hour lecture on how un-Indian we are.

James and Remus are now debating on who the new Headboy is. I don't really wonder. It's obviously Mary's older brother- Steve McDonald. She told me in one of her recent letters.

It went something like this:

_Dear Neil,_

_I HAVE SUCH GOOD NEWS!_

_STEVE'S HEADBOY! _

_ANYWAY, I'LL WRITE TO YOU LATER BECAUSE STEVE JUST SAID I COULD __**POLISH HIS BADGE!**_

_Love,_

_Mary, the proud little sister of Hogwarts Headboy Steve McDonald (EEEEEE!)_

Yes, I'm not lying. That gushy thing is the letter I got.

Steve McDonald is so good he makes me feel cruel and heartless when I accidentally step on an ant. Sometimes, I wonder how Steve lost his halo and if I should gift him a new one. But I don't think Mary will take too kindly to that. She thinks Steve's the cat's whiskers.

I beg to differ.

_My _brother is the cat's whiskers and the bees-knees and the dragon's fire and the Hippogriff's talons. He's the best thing ever. Hell, he's better than Dean Winchester, and almost nothing's better than Dean Winchester.

There is a loud crash outside and the sound of shouting.

We'd recognize that shrill voice anywhere. It's Bellatrix Black. And from the things she's saying-

"_You've tainted the family name…"_

"_Aunty Walburga should blast you off the family tree,"_

"_I hate to look at you, you traitor!"_

"_You're so ugly I can't believe you share my blood!"_

I can only assume she's talking to her beloved cousin- Sirius Black.

James and Remus are on their feet, wands drawn. The thing about the Marauders is- if one goes down, the other three go down with him.

I shouldn't worry about their safety. After all, James and Sirius are pretty darn good at the Dark Arts, and Remus Lupin can use his wand so skillfully that he's completely and utterly floored Professor McGonagall. And she's hard to floor, believe me.

But still.

It's not like I have anything better to do, and I'm not bragging or anything (OK, maybe I am a little)- but when I draw my wand and make a demand, people tend to obey me.

James tries to tell me to back off- they'll manage- but I nod impatiently towards the door and hold up my fingers. One… two… three-

"_Stupify!"_

The spell hits Mulciber in the chest and he falls down like a plank, in a lovely swirl of tailored black robes.

I nod approvingly at Remus, and aim a spell at Bellatrix. That girl's a maniac, but she's always been fast. She ducks and whirls around, sneering at me. "Aha, if it isn't the little sister!" she cackles, "The blood traitor! _Sectumsempera!"_

Another spell hits me from my side, launching me back three feet and sending me crashing into the frozen body of Mucliber. I look up dazedly, and see someone else has entered the fight.

My brother.


	2. He Isn't Your Average Hero, Actually

**Withering. Under. Disapproval**_**: Thank you for reading all the way here. Yes, Dean Winchester's been named after the Dean Winchester from Supernatural, whom I'm currently quite obsessed with. This isn't a HATE/HATE fanfiction, just so you know. Read and Review! **_

**Chapter 2**

**He's Not Your Average Hero, Actually.**

_Is there a hole in your heart,_

_Or am I mistaken?_

_I can see your capillary veins._

_-I am a Pirate, you are a Princess. (PlayRadioPlay)_

Maybe I should have been a little more detailed when I spoke of my brother- the one I've been gushing about.

Noah's a Slytherin.

The spell hit me so hard it burnt a hole through my dress. But I know why he used it. It got me out of the way of the Sectumsempra spell Bellatrix had cast.

Sitting there, head spinning, I experience a bit of a dramatic flashback.

"Alright, darlings. Take care of yourselves." My mother says, pulling her wide-brimmed hat over long cascades of black hair. She carefully smoothens out a crease in her yellow summer robes. Take care of myself? Me? My mother should know better. Noah _does _know better. He lets me hold on to his sleeve as we weave our way through the crowd of students near the Hogwarts Express.

I'm half hidden behind my hat, and my throat is dry.

My friends back at home- they've gone to Beauxbatons. They asked me to go with them, but I was adamant. I'd waited for two whole years to join Noah, and now I was going to be with him. I can make friends, I just need the time to get over my initial shyness. Making friends is not that big an issue. That big an issue is being put into a House that does not have my brother in it.

"You'll be fine, OK?" Noah says suddenly, once he helps me into the train and hauls my trunk in. "Here." He hands me my purse, "When do you see the first glimpse of Hogwarts?"

"Exactly four hours into the journey." I rattle off, because I've listened so patiently to everything Noah has ever told me about Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

He nods, "Look, spend as much as you want. Mum's given me enough to keep your pockets full all month."

Why does this not feel right?

"Uh, Noah, you can buy me the stuff, you know." I say uncertainly, "You know?"

He looks at me long and hard, before grasping my shoulders and turning me away from him, towards the opposite compartment. "Listen, Neil. Don't look back. You're going that way. I'm going the other. Do _not _look back and don't tell anyone you know me. Do you hear me?"

I try to turn my head to face him, angry tears filling my eyes. He doesn't let me. He forces my head back forward towards the left compartment. "Do you _hear _me, Neil?"

"Noah, you can't leave me. Noah, please."

"No. You don't know me until I say so. Not until after the Sorting."

"I don't care if you're in Slytherin!" I spit, trying to claw at his hands on the top of my head, "Let me come with you! I'll talk to Bellatrix Black and- and- Rodolphus- and all your friends and I won't- _won't- _embarrass you! I've never embarrassed you!"

His answer shocks me.

His tone is cold and unfamiliar.

"You will now. I don't want them to know _you_'re my sister, Neil. It'll ruin my reputation. Now go." He gives me a forceful shove forward and I stumble, not knowing who the demon is behind me. It can't be Noah. "And _don't look back._"

I walk forward, like someone being forced to the edge of a plank in the middle of the ocean. It's just a little unlike what I had imagined. Usually, the pirate is hideous, evil. I'd never imagined Noah to be the pirate, and it still didn't seem true enough.

And I do look back.

But when I do, Noah's gone.

A loud shout brings me back to the present. "What in the name of _Merlin_ are you doing!"

Oh, right.

Enter Steve McDonald.

He has to be on the train, since it's his first day as Headboy.

"Fighting it out." Montague Fletcher- the Slytherin beater- replies. He doesn't realize Steve's question was only a rhetoric one.

"Well, stop right now." He snaps, "Or I'll dock points. Bellatrix, Noah, break it up. Leave the fifth years alone and go back to your compartment! And for heaven's sake, un-stun Mulciber."

"You idiot Ravenclaw. Un-stun isn't even a word!" Bellatrix snaps, "Why can't Dumbledore ever pick a _decent _Headboy? Why does he always pick the batty feminine ones?"

It pains me to say this, but I agree with Bellatrix.

"Rodolphus would have made a _much _better Headboy!"

Here I don't agree.

I think Noah would have made the best Headboy.

"Ten points from Slytherin." Steve says condescendingly, because he has no better comeback. I mean, what exactly _can _you say when a demented Witch is calling you feminine and saying her boyfriend would make a better Headboy? _And _she's wielding a wand?

I'd probably take _twenty_ points, at the very least.

Noah strides past Bellatrix and swings Mulciber up.

"Fuck this." He mutters, "Let's go. I'm starving."

His eyes catch mine for a nanosecond, and I give him a small reassuring wink. He gives me a really tiny nod and leaves, ignoring the fact that Mulciber's head bangs the walls a few times.

Silence descends, during which Remus hurries over to help me up.

Sirius Black and Robert McKinnon are standing in the centre of the mess, examining their wounds. Robert's only got a few scratches, because he isn't the one Bellatrix so strongly dislikes. Sirius has blood staining his grey Muggle shirt.

"I hate her." Sirius snaps, referring to Bellatrix.

"We know." Remus says.

I sigh and enter the compartment again. The others follow me in and Sirius looks at me expectantly. Of course. I'm the daughter of two Healers. Obviously they'll expect me to know how to fix his arm. "Use a simple clotting-spell. You should know it by now. You use it every year on this day."

He does. This is tradition, see. Every year, on our first day, the Black siblings will have a show-down. Bellatrix will tell Sirius he's ugly, a traitor. Once she called him a 'Beetle on a pile of Godrick Gryffindor's shit', (creative, right?) and all hell broke loose that day. The Marauders and their opponents began that year with a long stay in the hospital wing.

"Right. Right." He taps his arm, muttering under his breath. I lean into the seat beside him, examining the hole in my blue dress. We'll have to change anyway, so it doesn't bother me much.

"How could he do that? The bloody coward."

I look up, lifting my eyes to the place where Robert is resting, for a second uncertain if he's referring to who I _think _he's referring to.

"Excuse me?"

"Your brother." he sneers, "The coward who can't stand up for you."

My breathing slows, and cold anger seeps through me.

"Don't." I snap, "Leave it be."

"He's just a goddamned Slytherin. Don't try to defend him. They're all fucking snakes, Neil!"

"Shut _up, _Robert."

"Look." Sirius says, fingering the spot in my dress, "Look what he did to you."

Robert shakes his head at me despairingly, "He's a Snake, Neil. Face it. Cowardly and low."

There are several things I can't do. I can't do Arithmancy and I can't deal with Slobberworms. But I sure as hell can deal with people who insult Noah. If Robert had called _me _cowardly and low, I'm sure my reaction would have been milder.

I'm out of my seat before anyone can react. The sound of crunching bone fills the compartment.

"Shut up, you fucking biased git!" I snarl, "Noah's not cowardly and he's not low. You'll never understand him because your mind's so narrow an ant couldn't give birth in it!"

I raise my fist again, but a loud, ear-hurting cry; "_Stop her! STOP HEEEEEER_!" fills the room.

James and Sirius launch forward, grabbing both my arms and pulling me back. They don't have to overreact. Restraining me isn't all that difficult. I'm not all heavy anymore.

Reyna Tarring rushes to her boyfriend and dabs his squashed nose with her handkerchief, "What did you _say_ to her, Rob?"

"I wab obly tryib bo holb." The retard blubbers, blood bubbles blowing out of his nostrils.

"What did you say?" Sirius inquires, and I sense he's enjoyed this little scene very, very much. He's always been a bit of a sadist.

Remus fixes Robert's nose with his wand.

I yank my arms away from Sirius and James and step out of the compartment, hating their company. I storm over to the bathroom and enter, latching the door tightly behind me.

Mirror Neil stares back at me, looking furious. She has a scratch on her jaw and her black hair has fallen out of the bun she'd put it up into.

She looks like she escaped from an asylum.

I know she _feels_ like she escaped from an asylum.

I've changed.

When I came to Hogwarts, I was so quiet Lily didn't know I could speak until after the Sorting. Third year came by and went. By then, everyone knew I could talk, and that I had a large store of interesting comebacks. They knew I could hex Mulciber to a hospital bed, where he spent the next three weeks rotting. They also knew I didn't look too bad. I dated a little then, but that was only because I enjoyed kissing. Not because I loved Robert McKinnon. We broke up two months after we got together.

It was only in my fourth year that I actually started displaying a nastier side to me.

It was around this time that people found out Noah and I were _actually _related, and that our matching surnames weren't just a coincidence. All I have about their discovery is that they're all pretty slow on the uptake. Matching surnames, matching skin-color, matching hair _and_ matching eyes?

Hello, People? I'd say that's a _leeetle _fishy.

And then there were questions raised by friends and not-friends as to why he never defended me, why he'd never told people earlier. No one gave _me _any shit because I was a magnificent Gryffindor. They just felt I was a wet blanket little girl, who was allowing her cruel, Blacksheep older brother to tyrannize her.

That's where they got it wrong.

XXXXX


End file.
